


Just Give Me Five Minutes

by Luna_Hart



Series: Five Minutes Of Your Time [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Comfort Sex, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Flashbacks, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, One Shot Collection, One Word Prompts, Panic Attacks, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Steve Rogers, Protective Thor (Marvel), Sex, Short One Shot, Thor (Marvel) loves pie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2019-08-22 09:44:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16595498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luna_Hart/pseuds/Luna_Hart
Summary: Five one-word prompted one-shot stories featuring James Barnes and Thor: Burn, Abuse, Fairy, Broken, Referee.





	1. Burn

He’d always burned hot, body temperature running higher than regular mortals. Higher even than most Asgardians. He’d heard it from more than one bedmate, either complaining about it in the summer or craving it in the winter. When he’d call the sky down, that burning would fill his entire being. He used to love the sensation, like static caressing his skin. The prickling feelings that proceeded the storm, when electricity hung heavy in the air. The heavy metallic taste that sat heavy on his tongue.

He missed the freedom that had come when he’d gather a storm to himself. The wind would caress his skin, trace gentle tracks through his hair. Lightning would play between his fingers and he’d never feel so alive. That feeling was gone now. Well, maybe not gone. Just different. There wasn’t that same rush, the wild joy, the reckless freedom that came with taming a storm. These days it just reminded him of what he’d lost.  
  
He’d always burned hot but lately it felt like he was burning up, a crackling electric feeling that shivered under his skin like snakes. It was as if lightning was living in his veins. It had felt like that ever since his world died, blasted apart until nothing was left but dust floating in the void between stars. Ever since a tyrant had descended on his people and wiped them from existence. Ever since he’d lost everything. 

And everyone.

At night he wouldn't sleep. He couldn't let himself sleep. Instead he would stare at the ceiling and try to ignore the memory of the awful choked out sounds that happen when someone’s throat is crushed.

He was so sick of death. 

Maybe that was what was crawling under his skin; the restless dead, whose bodies were left to drift through space like trash for the rest of eternity. He’d tried to honour them, tried to preform the rights and rituals his mother had taught him when he was young. He could never make himself finish, throat closing and trapping the ancient words in his throat. So the dead were left adrift and the restless feeling kept itching under his skin and he didn’t know what to do with himself. He had lost his purpose and that left him feeling so empty.

So at night he just lay awake as he burned from the inside out.

 

  
There wasn’t a time he could remember feeling anything other than cold. It crystallized in his veins, freezing him to the core. It was like living inside a fridge, at the ends of the known world. It was like barely existing at all. He felt nothing but numb and he was used to it.

He had lived in the fleeting moments of clarity that came right before a few thousand of volts of electricity were forced through his head. He had lived in that brief moment of confusion when he’d made eye contact with his target. He’d stared into those baby blue eyes that were wide with shock and pain and hope and that hope had hurt more than anything HYDRA had ever done to him.

They’d forced him back under, when they learned what happened. He’d asked the wrong question, knew it had been wrong even before the words slipped out. They’d fried his brain like an egg and the numbness spread until there was once again nothing left. Nothing but a frozen empty shell.

He’d barely felt it when his body hit the water. Nothing really happens when cold meets cold. He couldn’t even feel his fingers when he dragged the limp weight of the unconscious man with the baby blue eyes up onto the riverbank. He couldn’t feel his left arm either but that didn’t bother him. He hadn’t felt anything there since….

Well, anyways.

Time passed and his head unthawed and with it came everything those bastards had made him forget and everything they had made him do. He didn’t sleep. He didn’t let himself, couldn’t let himself. He had fallen asleep once, tucked behind a dumpster just outside of DC. Nightmares so twisted and dark he couldn’t even begin to untangle them kept him from rest and the frozen paralysis that lay over him like a blanket when he’d finally managed to wake up kept him from repeating the experience.

So instead he’d just stare at the ceiling, counting the cracks and shivering as new and awful memories danced behind his eyes. There was so much blood, always so much blood. Sheathing his hands, dripping off his chin. He knew exactly how much blood a person could lose before organs began to shut down. It was a surprising amount. He hated that he knew that.

And when finally the knowledge that he was nothing but a rabid animal that deserved to be put down became too much, he let the ice creep back in. He felt it crawl along his ribs, entering his heart and freezing out all feeling. After that, everything hurt a little less. He forced himself not to feel when he woke up with his arm in a vice and wary blue eyes staring down at him. He forced down the guilt and the self-hate and the pain and manned the fuck up because that’s what you did.

He felt nothing but cold when the video started to play, static cracking across the black and white depictions of his sins. It had been easy, the way he’d beat that man’s face in. He’d felt nothing but cold when his arm was ripped from his body like it was made of paper and it had been easy, so painfully easy, to fake a smile and a quippy one-liner when that blue eyed man he now knew as Steve walked off the plane with the news that the world was ending.

He’d felt something when he’d been erased from existence. A warm tingling sensation was the only warning and for one blissful moment, he hadn’t been cold. He’d watched his arms flake away into ash and then there was nothing. He didn’t remember what happened between then and when Steve and the others had figured out a way to fix everything. It didn’t matter. He was still just cold. He was cold to the point of burning, that level of cold that sets your insides alight and makes rational men go insane.

So at night he just lay awake, staring at the ceiling as he froze from the inside out.

 

 

When he first met the man with eyes like pale ice, he wasn’t sure what to make of him. He’d heard tales of this great warrior who had been twisted to the will of evil men. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but what he saw wasn’t it. The dark haired man was quiet, his smile never reaching his eyes. It made him sad to see, for a reason he couldn’t quite manage to justify.

He’d seen the warrior briefly before, on the field of battle before people began turning to ash around them. The warrior had been one of those people and when they’d made it right and put the universe back to rights, the warrior returned.

They spoke very little, if at all. A few words in passing here and there. Pleasantries, nothing more. Both had very little in common, if anything. He had always been big and bright and loud. He was changed now, hardened by loss, but he was still big and loud. The other was small, for all the well-toned muscles and broad shoulders. He was quiet and dark and cold.

They did have one in common. One very important binding similarity. They were both lost. Neither had a purpose, both cast adrift amidst people who cared too much and treated them like they were made of glass. It made a weird kind of sense that they’d fall into each other’s orbit. They do say opposites attract and nothing is more different than fire and ice.

 

  
The first time he really spent any time with the big blonde one-eyed man from another planet was about a week after the world almost ended. He was wandering the dark catwalks that wrapped around the upper levels of the palace, unable to sleep for the screams that echoed though his head, when he saw him. The man sat silhouetted against the pale moonlight, chin resting gentling on his knees. It was such an odd position for so big a man.

The blonde seemed to sense his presence, even though the eye closest was covered with a dark patch. He tilted his head a little but said nothing. He wasn’t sure what drew him to sit but he did, with enough space between their shoulders to not make it intrusive and uncomfortable.

They sat in silence, just taking comfort in the lack of expectations. And when the other man’s shoulder pressed up against his artificial one, he didn’t move away. He didn’t tense like he did when Steve clapped a hand to that shoulder or when someone brushed up against it in passing. Instead he leaned into it, relishing in the warmth that bled into him from the other man’s leg pressed against his.

The second time was at what Steve called ‘movie night’. They had all piled into a room on plush couches that were too soft and watched a movie that had too much colour and too much sound. He was sandwiched between Steve and the princess, palms tacky because he hated the feeling of being trapped even though he rationally knew he wasn’t.

He cast his eyes around the dim-lit room, stifling the urge to fidget. He caught the blonde man’s gaze, where he was stretched out along the floor with his head pillowed against an overstuffed chair. The corner of the man’s lips twitched, a silent understanding in his eyes. Something crackled through the air between them, electric and foreign.

The third time was in his own bedroom, in his own bed.

He never let himself sleep that long. He knew better. He was just so tired. The dreams caught him up in their claws and refused to let him go. Blood and gore and screams and begging assaulted him from all angles. God, the begging. He couldn’t bare to listen to the way their pleas scratched at his ears. There was so much screaming and then it was him that was screaming.

He was still screaming when he opened his eyes to a bright blue stare. The hand on his flesh shoulder burned hot, scalding his skin like a branding iron. His throat tore and he tasted iron. While he wasn’t screaming anymore, he couldn’t stop the breathy sobs that escaped his lips.

He wished he could just stop shaking. His teeth chattered and his muscles trembled and he was so fucking cold. He was always fucking cold. The bed moved and he found himself being pulled against a broad chest. Massive arms wrapped around him, encircling him in a warmth that burned. Gentle fingers combed his hair back from his face and a soft voice rumbled comfortingly beside his ear. It was safe and perfect and he didn’t deserve any of it yet he clung to it as if his life depended on it.

Maybe it did.

And when the trembling finally stopped and he pulled back an inch to make eye contact, what he saw reflected in this man’s face was not pity but a simple shared pain. The man’s hands squeezed his shoulders comfortingly before beginning to move away. To his embarrassment, he only clung tighter, afraid that in the absence of this warmth he would finally freeze over completely.

He felt the man pause, a question in his eye and he answered it without a word spoken.

 

 

When he found the warrior writhing in bed as if a man possessed, he’d acted on instinct. The screams that had torn him from sleep echoed in the room, clawing at his heart. The wild look of terror and guilt he saw in the man’s eyes as he wrenched himself from the clutches of his dreams felt like a stab of ice under his ribs.

The warrior trembled as if with cold, muscles convulsing under his touch. He didn’t think, just wrapped the man in his arms in an attempt to calm him. Slowly the warrior soothed, his body relaxing in increments. The way the man clung to him when he tried to take his leave, like a drowning man clutching to a piece of flotsam, made him pause.

The hands on his arms were like ice, both flesh and metal frozen to the touch. It soothed the fire that scratched under his skin, making it bearable. Like a balm to a wound, that touch calmed something he hadn't known was tearing him apart from the inside. That and the shared understanding in the man’s ice blue eyes cooled him, grounded him. He’d always associated the cold with the worst things, with death and with dying and with loneliness. He never knew it could be so perfect.

He threaded fingers through long locks of dark hair and pressed his mouth against chapped lips like a drowning man gasping for air. The tension in the room snapped and the other man melted into his arms, hands scrambling for purchase on his broad shoulders. The breathy sobs changed, taking on a new meaning as their bodies rocked against each other. Clothing was shed, flung into the darkness with a wild abandonment that bordered on desperation.

Hands roamed freely at each other, mouths greedy. Somehow he found himself on his back, the warrior working him over with lips and tongue until he was seeing stars. He cupped the back of the man’s head, rocking up against him. He let himself be selfish, just a little, before turning the tables.

He flipped him over, pinning the smaller man against the mattress as he mouthed at the back of his neck. He felt the warrior tense, muscles coiling like a cornered animal ready to strike. He paused, shifting his weight to an elbow as he brushed gentle fingers down the man’s trembling side.

“Easy,” he murmured.

 

 

_“Easy.”_

It was the first word spoken between them.

It was a word used by mothers to calm frightened children. It was a word used to tame scared and injured animals. It was a word that should have been patronizing, emasculating, degrading. It was a word that should have had him bucking the bigger man off his back, artificial hand around his throat.

And yet the word coiled in his chest and refused to come out. It warmed him from the inside out in a way that nothing ever had. It sent fire licking across his skin, thawing out the walls he’d build around himself. He’d always associated fire with the negative. Stray too close to the flame and everything will burn. Icarus learned that the hard way. He never imagined it could be so gentle, warming him slowly until he could actually feel again.

He hadn’t felt anything in so long and now that he could he was terrified. He froze, the ice slipping back in and he didn’t want it back. He wanted to feel. He needed to feel and that one word spoken so gently by this blonde beast of a man had him almost coming apart at the seams. His eyes stung and his skin trembled in the wake of the man’s gentle touches.

Lips brushed tenderly down his spine. Fingers interlaced with his as he let himself be rolled onto his side, his back pressed against the blonde man’s chest. Feather-light touches traced down his ribs and over his hips before dipping lower. His breath stuttered in his chest, head lolling back against a muscled shoulder. Tension coiled in his belly, building and building until it shattered. Teeth bit into his shoulder as he arched back, a hoarse cry catching in his throat.

He trembled. He trembled and would have flown to pieces had it not been for the arms that held him together. His vision blurred and to his horror, hot tears began coursing down his cheeks. He couldn’t stop them. They just kept coming, silent and scalding. Yet the man pressed up behind him didn’t judge. He didn’t even say anything, didn't try to say words that would never sound like anything other than pitying and placating.

He just held him until the tears dried up and icy eyes turned gritty and dry.

He rolled over in those arms, pressing his forehead to the bigger man’s as his hand dipped between them. He felt a breath on his lips, soft and uneven. He surged forward, pressing his lips to the man’s, capturing the gasp that slipped out as his whole body tensed.

They lay like that, facing each other, for a long time. They lay there until the sun crested the hills and slowly bathed the room in warm light. They said nothing, just lay there in the silence, taking comfort in the balance they had found in each other.

People say that fire and ice cannot coexist. With an overabundance of fire, ice will melt away into nothing. With too much ice a fire can be smothered, encased in the cold until it burns itself out.

At least, that’s what they say.

 

 


	2. Abuse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This fic deals with domestic abuse

  
“Looking good, boss,” Darcy drawled, far too chipper for six-thirty in the morning. Thor huffed a laugh, running a hand through his newly shorn locks a little self consciously. He’d never had it so short. “Yeah, I’m still getting used to it,” he confessed as he flipped the bar down stools for opening. “Nothing makes a girl feel better than a new hairdo,” the girl teased as she unwrapped paper cups and stacked them beside the espresso machine. “Whose on deliveries today?” Thor asked. “Lang will be here at ten to cover it. And don’t forget Phil is gonna be here at noon to drop off those matcha samplers,” she called over her shoulder as she headed into the back.

Thor couldn’t help the fond smile that tugged at his lips. Thank god for that girl. Darcy had kept the place running smoothly after his parents had been killed in a car wreck. She hadn’t tried to placate him with the regular bullshit people had been offering since the funeral. She just gave him a long hug and told him he needed to order more napkins.

Ten minutes after they’d opened, a man with long dark hair and a jawline that could cut glass came strolling in. Right on time, Thor thought as he put the last of the muffins into the display case. Tall, dark, and handsome had been coming into Valhalla Coffee for three months now. He was always dressed in sinfully tight sweatpants and had a duffel bag slung across broad shoulders, the eagle emblem on the side advertising SHIELD, a local MMA gym a few blocks away.

He came in every morning without fail and was the best part of Thor’s day. Maybe that was a little sad but given the past couple months he’s had, he was gonna take what he could get. Thor didn’t even have to ask anymore. He’d just gave him a smile and started making his large almond milk latte to go. He’d stopped letting Darcy make his order after she refused to stop writing _‘Sexy Gym Guy’_ on all his cups.

“You cut your hair.”

Thor looked up, startled. The man hadn’t said two words to him besides “Large almond milk latte please. To go,” since the first morning he’d come in. The dark haired man flushed a little, gesturing to his own hair which was pulled back into a sloppy bun. Thor blinked, struggling not to get lost in the brightest blue eyes he’d ever seen. “Uh, yeah,” he said intelligently. He mentally kicked himself as soon as the barely-there words left his mouth. “Just needed a change,” he added, trying to cover his embarrassment. The dark-haired man nodded. “I get that,” he said, softly like there was something more behind his words.

“Here yah go,” Thor said, passing the man his coffee with a smile. “Thanks,” he said, returning the smile as he snapped a lid on the cup. “And once again you didn’t ask for Sexy Gym Guy’s number. Or even his name,” Darcy scolded as the man’s leather covered back slipped out the door. “You work in a coffee shop. A name should be the easy part, you have the perfect excuse.”

“Don’t you have something better to do than poke into my personal life?” Thor scolded. “Hey, a girl needs a hobby,” she said glibly, pouring milk into a frothing mug to make herself a mocha. Thor just shook his head and finished putting out the scones.

 

  
“You look a little frazzled,” Natasha, the Russian tattoo artist from across the street drawled as Thor poured her extra sweet extra large caramel macchiato into a to-go mug. “Had someone call in sick,” he said, handing over her order. “Poor thing,” she said unsympathetically, the barest hint of an accent lilting in her voice. Thor just rolled his eyes, handing a large green tea to the bookstore owner, Bruce.

He scanned down the snaking line of impatient business people dressed in their sharp suits and early risers in their gym cloths, looking for one particular gym bag, one particular set of black sweatpants. He’d deny doing so if ever asked but it wasn’t like the long haired man to be this late. “Large almond milk latte, please,” he heard a familiar voice ask and his heart skipped a beat. “Name?” came Darcy’s harsh drawl.

“Bucky,” the man answered.

Thor could practically feel Dracy’s eyebrows disappear into her hair. “Bucky?” she echoed scathingly. “That’s a stupid name.” Thor shot a glare down the counter to Darcy but not only did Bucky not take offence, he actually chuckled. “Childhood nickname,” he explained, holding his credit card against the machine until it beeped. “Never could manage to shake it.”

“Whatever,” the girl said dismissively, handing Thor a cup that had Bucktooth scrawled along the side. Thor promptly tossed it and grabbed a fresh cup. “What’d she write on it this time?” Bucky drawled. “You don’t wanna know, trust me,” Thor sighed. Bucky smiled, all teeth. It should have looked aggressive and maybe it did, just a little bit, but Thor liked it.

“What’s her nickname for you?” he asked curiously. Thor snorted as he measured out chia spices. “A friend called me Point Break once and she’s never let me live it down. It was before the haircut,” he explained, handing him the cup and moving on to Dr. Palmer’s triple shot espresso. The other man’s sharp chuckle did strange things to his stomach. “I can see it,” Bucky chuckled, saluting Thor with his coffee as he took his leave. “Thor and Bucky sitting in a tree,” Darcy drawled slyly in a sing-song voice. “K-I-S-S-I-N—hey!” she squawked as Thor tossed a dishrag at her face.

 

  
The following days saw an increase in conversations beyond the usual pleasantries. It wasn’t anything too personal but Thor learned that Bucky lived in Brooklyn with a roommate who was a cop and kept rescuing stray cats despite being allergic. He taught at the MMA gym SHIELD as well as teaching a woman’s self defence class on the weekends. He revealed that he had two tattoos, only one of which he regretted, after Thor wore a shirtsleeved shirt one day. Bucky had marvelled over the intricate runes of the war hammer that decorated Thor’s right forearm, fingers twitching like he was tracing the design in his head.

He learned that Bucky had a dog, a shepherd husky mix named Winter who was obsessed with cheese. Once when Bucky lunged across the table to catch a stack of pamphlets going over, Thor caught sight of a little shadowed dot nestled in the curve of the man’s nostril and holy hell, the image of the man with a nose ring caused all sorts of inappropriate images in his head. Not a single one of these things helped him to control the growing crush he had on the man.

 

It was a slow lazy Saturday and Thor was just handing Ms. Carter her tea when the bell above the door chimed. He glanced up and his mouth instantly went dry. Bucky was only a few feet away, waiting patiently behind a fussy business type to finish their overly complicated order.

His hair was pulled back from his face, with dark aviators perched high low on his nose. Whatever he was reading on his phone prompted a fond smile to tug at his lips. He was wearing a black t-shirt that was stretched so tight around muscular biceps it was a wonder the fabric didn’t rip. A hint of triangular red poked out from the sleeve on his left arm and Thor wondered if that was the tattoo Bucky regretted or the one he didn’t. “Daaaaamn, if you don’t want him, I do,” Darcy stage whispered as the businessman finally paid for his order. “Keep your voice down,” Thor hissed as he measured out cocoa powder.

A dishcloth landed in his peripheral vision. “For the drool,” the girl said quietly as Bucky stepped up to the counter. “Usual?” she said primly, giving the man a wide toothed smile. “Uh yes please?” Bucky said, peering over the top of his sunglasses with a look of confused apprehension. Thor understood. He got unsettled when Darcy smiled like that at him too. “And an double shot macchiato please,” Bucky added, pulling out a couple bills.

“Morning,” the dark-haired man said pleasantly as he leaned casually against the counter, still distracted by his phone. “Morning,” Thor said, focusing on not scalding the milk he was currently heating. He snuck a glance out of the corner of his eye. Bucky’s hair was dry, meaning it was pre-gym, and neatly tied back in a french braid. Thor had never seen his hair like that before but he had to admit it was a good look. “My friend Nat insisted,” Bucky said like he knew what Thor was looking at even though he hadn’t looked up from his phone. “She likes braiding and my hair’s finally long enough.” Thor smirked, handing the man his latte. “It’s a good look,” he offered. “Mmmh, for kindergarten girls maybe. I’m just lucky it wasn’t pigtails,” Bucky drawled.

The cup was halfway to Bucky’s lips when he froze, eyes tracing something written in sharpie on the side of the paper. A rough snort burst from the man’s chest. Thor made an inquiring noise and Bucky turned shining eyes to meet his. He spun the cup around so Thor could read the messy lettering spelling Bucktooth across the side. “I think I preferred sexy gym guy,” the man chuckled. “Sorry about her,” Thor said, sending a sharp glare down the counter to where Darcy was ringing in an order. “She was dropped on her head as a child, repeatedly.” That pulled another crooked smirk from Bucky and a sour look from Darcy. “Do not use me as an excuse to get your flirt on,” she retorted, sliding a couple cups along the line. Thor couldn’t help the hot flush that burned up the back of his neck. He cleared his throat self consciously, focusing on not burning the milk.

Bucky let out a low chuckle, much to Thor’s further embarrassment. “I’m flattered, but also taken. Sorry,” he said apologetically. That revelation hit like a brick and sat heavily in Thor’s stomach but he shoved it aside. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” he assured. Bucky shrugged, muscular shoulders rippling and Thor couldn’t help but watch the graceful movement and damn, if daydreams didn’t die hard.

“Still,” Bucky insisted. “Don’t want it to make things awkward. Would hate to have to find another coffee shop.” He said it with a little crooked smile, sheepish-like, as if he was worried Thor really would kick him out or something. Thor waved the comment aside as he handed him the second drink. “Nothing to worry about, really,” he insisted. The relieved smile he got in return hurt his heart, just a little.

 

The next week the dishwasher broke, leaking into the back office because of course it would. The rest of his life was a mess at the moment, what was another thing? He spent half the morning on the phone arguing with the plumber and the other half moping up the mess. He was still on the phone, now on hold with a different plumbing company, when Bucky came in but he could see him through the swinging double doors. This time he wasn’t alone. Another man was with him, with short dark hair, olive skin and a duffel bag with the matching eagle emblem on the side. Thor watched as they fought over who would pay for the drinks, the shorter haired man winning after a sharp slap to Bucky’s hand.

Thor listened to painfully cheery music through the phone and watched the way the other man crowded into Bucky’s space like he owned him. He murmured something in the long-haired man’s ear, making Bucky laugh and split his lip open again. The man reached up, gently wiping away the bead of blood away with his thumb. Bucky’s eyes had the gentlest look in them, the other man’s tinged with heat and want. Thor looking away, feeling like he was intruding. “Yes, I’m still here,” he sighed at the perky voice who finally picked up the other line. It took four hours for someone to show up to fix the dishwasher. Thor just wished for the day to be over.

It turned out to be a bad wish and the day the dishwasher broke was just the beginning of what became two very torturous weeks. Of course his half sister was contesting the will and of course his half brother was nowhere to be found. Therefore there was nothing for him to do but to fly all the fucking way to Norway and deal with it himself. His sister had insisted on it, adding one more thing for him to hate her for. Now he was exhausted and thoroughly jet-lagged, and the base-heavy electronic music Darcy was blaring through the speakers only aggravated his already substantial headache. There wasn’t anyone else to cover the shift so Thor just had to pop two ibuprofen and muscle through.

Bucky was late, strolling in after the morning rush with his bag slung over his shoulder and a wicked black eye. It was slightly swollen along the cheekbone, fresh and painful looking. “Lost a bet,” he said with a sigh as he passed over a massive list of orders written on the back of a receipt. “Looks like you lost more than just a bet,” Thor teased, ringing through the orders and passing the list to Darcy. “That’s quite the shiner.”

Bucky’s bright eyes snapped up to meet his, something hard masking the usual cheery glow. “Just training,” the man replied stiffly, a hardness in his tone almost daring Thor to argue. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—,” Thor tried to backtrack. “It’s fine,” Bucky replied quickly, flashing a tight smile before moving down the counter to wait for his order. 

“Smooooth,” Darcy muttered as Bucky left the cafe with the massive stack of coffees. “Not today, Darce, please,” Thor sighed, massaging the back of his neck to try and relieve some of the tension in his skull. A small hand settled on his bicep, squeezing comfortingly. “The big bad bitch still being a bitch?” she said, pulling a huffed laugh from his chest. “Yeah,” he sighed, too tired to scold her for the language. “Yeah she really is.” Slender arms wrapped around his middle, squeezing tight. For someone so small, Darcy was incredibly strong and it was just what he needed.

 

  
Over the next few months, another pattern evolved. Bucky started walking into the cafe with a wide variety of injuries. It slowly became more frequent, more obvious; bruises on cheeks and jawbones, green and yellow hues dancing across temples and into hairlines. It was getting warmer out, most people now shedding their outer layers for shorter sleeves but Bucky was never out of his hoodies. Once, when Bucky was reaching across the counter to take his order, Thor thought he saw the shadows of a bruise wrapping around the man’s wrist.

Thor was used to seeing the man with various injuries, with split knuckles and lips. Not to this degree but the bruises by themselves weren’t enough to raise Thor’s suspicion. The man had a rough hobby, plus Thor had no idea what the man did for work. For all he knew the man was a professional fighter instead of just using it as an energy outlet.

No, it was his eyes.

His eyes were different, duller somehow. That mischievous spark was gone along with the soft-spoken banter with Darcy and the innocent small talk with him. He was good at hiding it, good at putting on a smile but Thor could tell something was wrong. He’d always been good at reading people, understanding their emotional state. His mother had called him intuitive. His father had called him soft.

Bucky didn’t come in for a couple weeks and when he finally reappeared he looked rougher than ever. Dark bags bruised under his eyes. There were no bruises visible but he held himself stiffly. He also didn’t look Thor in the eye, replying to his greeting with a distracted grunt as he fiddled with his phone. “Haven’t seen you in a while,” Thor commented mildly as he poured almond milk into a frothing pitcher. Bucky’s eyes flicked up to his, gaze sharp like he was trying to weigh any hidden meaning in the words. “Been busy,” was all he said, looking back down at his phone. “I can relate to that,” Thor drawled with a gentle smile, trying to put the man at ease. “Seems like everything around here is either breaking or leaking lately.”

“That sucks,” Bucky said simply, startling a little as his phone rang. “Hey,” he answered. “Yeah, I’m just grabbing coffee and…no, I won’t be late…Brock, I promise, I won’t be late. Okay. Okay. I’ll see you soon. Did you want anyth—.” Clearly whoever was on the other line hung up abruptly. Bucky sighed, tucking the phone into his back pocket. “Thanks,” he said, snatching the coffee almost as soon as Thor set it down.

“I know that look,” Darcy said, pulling Thor’s attention from the dark haired man’s retreating form. “What?” he said startled. Darcy leaned against the counter next to him, rolling her eyes like it was going out of style. “It’s the same look you had when I first started working here and you caught me stealing the day-old muffins because I couldn’t afford groceries and rent. It’s the same look you had before offering to fix Ms. Carter’s porch and it’s the same look you had when you found that puppy out behind the dumpster—,”

“Okay, I get it, I get it,” Thor sighed, holding up a hand to stall the deluge of examples. “All I’m saying is be careful,” Darcy said, tone steady and so unlike her. “I don’t want you getting mixed up in something that might get you hurt.” A slow smile pulled at Thor’s lips even as her words hit him hard and deep. “Aww, you do care,” he drawled, pulling Darcy into a one-armed hug. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Fuck off, you great oaf,” Darcy growled, sounding as threatening as a damp ornery kitten. Thor just laughed and finally let go as she pinched him in the ribs, hard. “Is that any way to talk to your boss?” he teased. Darcy just curtsied in a mocking manner and headed into the back, throwing “Oh and the dishwasher broke again,” over her shoulder.

 

  
“Seriously?” Thor huffed, staring up into the truck bed and then back to the skinny little kid they’d sent along with the delivery. “They just sent you?” The kid, whose name tag read Peter, shrugged. “Sorry mister,” he apologized, voice so earnest it had Thor’s heart crying buttermilk. “I don’t know what to tell you.” Thor huffed, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You look like you just kicked a puppy,” Darcy’s sharp voice drawled as she lounged in the doorway. “Or someone kicked your puppy. Or you kicked your own puppy by accident.”

“Darce, unless you plan on helping,” he grumbled, turning around to glare at the girl. Darcy gave him a stern look, hands on her hips like a scolding mother. “Not if you’re gonna take that tone. Maybe tall, dark, and taken will help you,” she snarked, turning to wave at Bucky who was just strolling up the sidewalk. His hair was pulled back, gym bag over his shoulder like always, and a beautiful husky shepherd mix on a leash by his side.

He slowed, seeing them both staring at him. “What?” he stated, face puzzled. The dog, Winter if Thor’s memory was correct, flopped down at her master’s feet, panting softly. “Free coffee if you help me get this into the back,” Thor offered, pointing behind him at the dishwasher. Bucky’s eyebrows shot up. He hesitated, seeming to weigh the options, before he shrugged. “I’ve never been one to turn down free caffeine,” he drawled, moving to tie Winter to a nearby bike rack.

Twenty minutes later, Thor and Bucky were wrestling the heavy piece of machinery into the back of the cafe. “You know, we’ll take your old one away for only fifty bucks,” Peter pipped up as he dogged along behind them. “What?” Thor huffed before realizing the broken dishwasher was still there, sitting in the middle of the kitchen. “Ah fuck,” he breathed. “Darcy!” he shouted. “When were you gonna tell me that the guys didn’t pick up the broken dishwasher like they were supposed to?”

“Uh, now?” Darcy said, briefly popping her head through the passthrough. “Jesus Christ,” Thor sighed. A gravelly rumble of a laugh from behind him made him turn. Bucky was leaning on the top of the new dishwasher, strands of hair pulling free from his elastic and beads of sweat peppering his brow. His eyes looked lighter, a bit of that old spark back in them. “Extra shot and I’ll help you take this one out too,” he said, just a little out of breath. “You got yourself a deal,” Thor said with relief.

Finally the broken dishwasher was loaded up and they were waving Peter away with an extra fifty in his pocket. Thor wiped sweat from his forehead as he turned, seeing Winter watching them curiously, head cocked just a little. “Mind if I say hello?” Thor asked. “She’s friendly,” Bucky said with a nod, hands reaching up to redo his ponytail.

Thor bent down, holding his hand out to the dog. She sniffed it curiously. Then her tail started wagging and she jumped up to try and lick his face. “Hет, ложитесь!” Bucky snapped sharply. The words were unfamiliar, tone guttural and harsh. Winter instantly dropped to the ground, looking properly abashed. “All her commands are in Russian,” Bucky said in response to Thor’s questioning look. “Odd choice,” he replied, rubbing the dog behind her ears. Bucky grinned, looking more relaxed than Thor had seen him in months. “She was owned by the mafia. I shit you not,” he added, chuckling at Thor’s flabbergasted expression. “My roommate is a cop. Rescued her on a raid.”

“That’s the plot of an action flick right there,” Thor said, giving the dog one last scratch before straightening. “Come on, I’ll make you that coffee,” he said, clapping a hand unthinkingly to Bucky’s shoulder. The man flinched a little, discomforting flickering across his face. “Shit, sorry man,” Thor said, pulling his hand back. “It’s fine,” Bucky said immediately, rolling his shoulders a little. The smile he plastered on his face felt a little forced, like it didn’t fully reach his eyes. “Just a pulled muscle. Now, about that coffee.”

Thor didn’t call out the blatant redirect in the conversation. Instead he led the man inside and made him a double shot chai latte with almond milk. Thor felt Bucky’s eyes on him as he measured out the chai tea concentrate. “The hell is that?” he said suspiciously. “Trust me,” Thor replied with a wink. Bucky wrinkled his nose. “Trust you, I barely know you,” he accused teasingly. “Hey, have I fucked up your coffee once in the past what, six months?” Thor retorted, slipping the nozzle into the frothing mug. Bucky just gave him a sour look in response.

With a sprinkle of cinnamon, Thor presented the man his coffee with a flourish. “Double shot dirty chai tea latte.” Bucky snorted, eyeing the cup suspiciously. “I usually try to keep my coffee order five syllables and under,” he drawled as he took a tentative sip. Thor would swear to god the man’s eyelids fluttered, just a little. “Yeah, okay, fine, shut up,” Bucky snarked but Thor couldn’t wipe the smug smirk off his face. “Shit,” Bucky snapped, eyes drifting up to the clock that sat on the wall above Thor’s head. “I’m gonna be late. Thanks again!” he said with a wave as he snagged his duffel bag and strode outside.

It was a coincidence that someone had left a couple of dirty mugs and plates on the corner table by the windows. It was also a coincidence that Thor decided then to go over and collect them. It was a coincidence that someone didn’t finish their muffin. It was another coincidence that the garbage was bursting, clearly not having been taken out the night before. So it was just a coincidence that Thor had to go out into the back alley to put the trash in the dumpster. So many coincidences. It was moments like this this made Thor believe in fate.

A harsh angry voice from further into the alley made him pause, one hand on the dumpster lid. Another voice, softer and pleading, could be heard on the heels of the first. A sharp slapping sound cracked down the alley, echoed by a dog barking sharply. Thor made his way cautiously down the alley. At the end there was a corner, which lead to a dead end.

The dark haired man Thor had seen in the cafe with Bucky a few times before had the long haired man pressed up against the building. He had one hand fisted in his hair, shoving Bucky’s face against the rough brick. Winter danced around them, barking nervously. “Can’t even fuckin’ trust you to get coffee,” the shorter man was hissing nastily in Bucky’s ear, his voice just carrying to where Thor was. “I’m away what, barely four fuckin’ days?”

“Nothing happened,” Bucky said through gritted teeth. “Shut up,” the shorter man snapped, yanking Bucky around to shove his back against the wall instead. He wrapped a hand around the taller man’s throat, pinning him again. “You don’t speak, got it?” Bucky’s eyes were wide, blood smeared across the corner of his mouth. “Brock, please,” he tried again. “I swear, nothin—.” The man’s words were cut off sharply as Brock punched him hard in the gut. Bucky sagged forward as his knees buckled and his breath left his lungs with a audible whoosh.

“You stupid fuckin’—ahg!” Brock’s own leg buckled as Winter latched onto the man’s calf, biting down hard. The shorter man dropped Bucky who crumpled to the ground. “Fuckin’ bitch,” the man snarled, viciously kicking the dog in the ribs, twice. Winter yelped and let go. “No!” Bucky cried, grabbing at Brock’s ankle. Brock whirled and kicked his boot across Bucky’s face.

Thor was moving before he realized what he was doing. He grabbed the smaller man by the scruff of the neck and hauled him bodily off the ground before dropping him. The man landed hard but rolled swiftly to his feet. It was clear the man had training. The hardened muscles and the way he held himself telegraphed it. His eyes were mean, so dark they were almost black and boiling over with barely controlled rage.

“This is none of your business, blondie. Now fuck off before you get hurt,” the man spat as he got to his feet. “Walk away,” Thor said softly, hands held loosely by his sides. The words lilted slightly; his accent always slipped out when he was angry. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” Brock snarled before recognition sparked in his dark eyes. “Coffee shop boy,” he sneered nastily. “Hoping to dip your wick in my sloppy seconds? Oh, you though I couldn't see the way you looked at him? Well, no such luck here, buddy. He’s _mine_.”

“Walk away,” Thor said again. “You’re in over your head here, kid,” the short man spat. “Now run along before I knock your teeth in.” Thor took a deep breath, refusing to rise to the man’s bile. “I warned you,” Brock spat before coming at Thor swinging. The thing with using rage to fuel fighting is that it made everything just a little sloppy. The man had power and Thor was sure he was a devastating good fighter, but he was also a bully. Rage made him wind up further, telegraph his first punch clearly. Thor ducked under the first swing before burying his fist in the man’s gut, once, twice. He slammed his knee up into the man’s face, feeling bone give under his thigh before he threw Brock down the alley.

The smaller man hit the ground hard, rolling. He got up slower this time, blood dripping from his face. Thor kept his face passive even as his heart hammered in his chest. He’d gotten lucky and he just prayed the man would give up. He knew he wouldn’t stand a chance against the man in a proper brawl. Brock spat blood onto the cement. Then he laughed. He laughed, cackling on the edge of mania. “Fine,” he spat, blood burbling from his lips. “Fine, you want him this bad? You can have him. Fuckin’ freaks deserve each other.” Thor didn’t take his eyes off the man, waiting until the man was long gone from sight before turning back into the alley.

He found Bucky leaning against the wall, trying to keep Winter from licking the blood from his chin as she wiggled herself into his lap. Thor moved slowly, keeping a respectful distance as he crouched down in front of the pair. “Is he gone?” Bucky asked, voice painfully small. “Yeah, he’s gone,” Thor said quietly. “I didn’t ask you to do that,” the man said sharply, eyes accusingly. “Wasn’t just gonna sit back and watch,” Thor snapped back, anger and adrenaline still simmering under his skin. He regretted it immediately, seeing the way Bucky pulled into himself. “Sorry, that was out of line,” he said quietly. Bucky said nothing, burying his fingers in Winter’s fur. “He’s not…it’s wasn’t always like that,” the younger man tried. “You don’t have to explain anything to me,” Thor said quickly. “No, I want…I just, _fuck_!” Bucky bit off as his nose began to bleed in ernest.

“We should get you to a hospital,” Thor said as Bucky pinched his fingers under his nose. “No fuckin’ hospitals,” Bucky snapped nasally. “Okay. That’s okay. You live nearby? I give you a ride,” Thor offered. Bucky eyed it suspiciously, blue eyes flicking up to meet his. “You can drop the white knight routine,” he spat. “Because if you’re looking for a damsel, my jaw’s a little sore right now.” Thor swallowed his reaction down, knowing the man was hurt and embarrassed and lashing out. “Is there someone I can call then?” he said instead.

Bucky shook his head. “No, Steve’s at work. Don’t wanna bother him.” He heaved a long sigh, blood trickling between his fingers. “Let me drive you home,” Thor asked again, tone softly. Ice blue eyes flicked up to bore into his very core. “I only live eight blocks away,” he protested quietly. “Let me drive you,” Thor replied gently. Whatever he saw in Thor’s eyes seemed to convince him and after a very long silence, Bucky nodded. He let go of his death grip on Winter’s collar and tried to gather Winter into his arms while still keeping his bloody nose under control.

“Here, I got her,” Thor said, gently scooping the dog into his arms. Winter whinged pitifully, licking at Thor’s neck as Bucky got unsteadily to his feet, bloodied fingers reaching for his duffel. “What me to—,” Thor tried. “I’m not fucking useless,” Bucky snapped, something painful behind the words like they’d been used as weapons against him before. Thor figured they probably had. “My car’s around back,” he said simply.

 

  
Bucky sat in the back with Winter across his lap, absentmindedly carding his fingers through her fur. The drive took longer than it should have as the rush hour traffic began to rear it’s ugly head. Thankfully Thor found parking in front of the building Bucky pointed out. It was a four story brick walkup with a zigzagging fire escape along the side. Winter had settled down in car ride over and now snuggled calmly in Thor’s arms as he followed Bucky up the winding staircase to the top floor.

Bucky led him to door 4C, fumbling a little with his keys. The door swung open into a large open flat, sunny and warm with plush couches and art hanging on the walls. Thor set Winter down gentle, snapping off her leash. She trotted up to Bucky, pressing herself up against his legs. “You gotta first aid kit?” Thor asked, setting the leash on the nearby breakfast bar. “You don’t have to,” Bucky said as he dropped the keys on the kitchen table. “At least let me set your nose. I used to be a paramedic,” he added when Bucky gave him a look. “Convenient,” he drawled as he grabbed a bottle of gin from the cupboard. Thor watched as the man threw himself down into a chair at the table and unscrewed the cap. “Okay, let’s do this,” he sighed, taking a long swig. “First aid kit?” Thor prompted. “Under the sink,” Bucky said with a vague wave into the kitchen.

“Put this under your nose,” he ordered, handing Bucky a wad of gauze as he pulled out a set of gloves from the kit. “What’s the accent? It slips out from time to time,” Bucky asked, eyes sharp as he watched Thor pull on the gloves. “I was born in Norway,” Thor said as he pulled up a nearby chair to sit opposite the dark-haired man. “So you’re a Norwegian paramedic who owns a coffeeshop and also has the ability to kick ass?” the man asked, tone mocking. Thor was beginning to think this snarky sarcasm was a defence mechanism. “Ex-paramedic,” he corrected. “I’m gonna feel your face now, okay?”

“Isn’t that a song?” Bucky snarked, cautiously moving his hand away from his nose. “Close,” Thor said with a smile as he carefully ran his fingers along Bucky’s jaw. “Norway has mandatory military service. I moved to the states when I was twenty-five,” he explained. “Your jaw is fine. It’ll be sore for a while but nothing’s broken.” Bucky said nothing, muscles in his jaw twitching as Thor moved his fingers up his cheekbones to his nose. A sharp hiss sizzled between his teeth as soon as Thor’s fingers touched the swollen arch.  
  
“Sorry,” he murmured. “It’s definitely broken. You okay if I set it?” Bucky pulled away from his hands long enough to take another long swing from the gin bottle. “Just get it over with,” he grumbled. “On three okay?” Thor said, setting his thumbs gently on either side of Bucky’s swollen nose. “One.” There was a soft crack and Bucky let out a sharp yelp, yanking back from Thor’s touch. “Mother fucker,” he cursed as Winter wormed her way in between their knees, whining. “Sorry,” Thor apologized as he stripped off his gloves, carefully turning them inside out so to not get blood on anything.

The mood shifted drastically after that. Something in Bucky shut down, turning in on himself. He buried his fingers in Winter’s coat, staring into some sort of middle space between their bodies. Then he started to laugh. It was more of a chuckle really, low and rough and painful. Thor’s hands paused, hovering just above Bucky’s face. “Oh come on, you have to admit it’s a little funny.” Bucky chuckled, moving away from Thor’s hands as he reached for the gin. “I mean who’d believe someone who teaches self-defence for a living lets himself get beat on by his boyfriend. I’m a blackbelt, for fucks sake.”

“Don’t,” Thor said gently. “Don’t do that to yourself.” Bucky snorted sharply. “Why not? Not like I don’t deserve it.”

Something must have shifted in Thor’s eyes because the dark haired man’s eyes shuttered over, like he’d said too much. He looked away, moving to take another swig. Thor carefully intercepted the bottle on its way back to the man’s lips. Bucky glared at him, trying to yank it back but Thor didn’t let go. They stared at each other, Bucky’s eyes icy and defensive. “I don’t know you very well,” Thor said softly. “But I know you don’t deserve it. Nobody does.”

Bucky’s jaw trembled a little and he sniffed sharply, eyes flicking away. He yanked on the bottle again and this time Thor let go. “Thanks for the nose job,” he muttered sharply. Thor took this as his dismissal. He rose without a word, packing the first aid kit away. He felt bad about just leaving the man alone but before he could figure out what to do, the front door opened.

The man who stepped through was tall and blonde with more muscles than Adonis himself. He was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, a leather jacket in one hand and a motorcycle helmet in the other. A stark white bandage was wrapped firmly around his bicep. “Buck, what—,” the man said, sharp eyes flicking from the dark haired man and his bloody face to where Thor was standing halfway between them. The man’s eyes darkened, his face instantly transforming. “You mother fucker,” he growled, taking a menacing step towards Thor.

“Steve, no,” Bucky snapped sharply. “He’s just the coffee guy.” The blonde man paused in his charge. “I was just leaving,” Thor offered, hands still in the air. Steve’s eyes flicking between where Thor had backed up a pace, hands raised, to where Bucky was knocking back the gin like it was going out of style. “What happened?” Steve asked sharply. “Exactly what you said would happen, Stevie,” Bucky snarked, haphazardly waving the bottle around. “You were right. Go on and gloat.”

Everything about Steve softened. He set his jacket and helmet aside as he moved to take Thor’s vacated seat. He placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, squeezing gently. It was as if that touch opened the floodgates. Bucky’s eyes filled and he just crumpled into Steve’s arms, shoulders trembling with silent sobs. Thor had never felt like he was intruding more. Both men had seemed to forget he was even there so he took his leave, quietly closing the door behind him.

 

 

“Darcy, you remembered we needed to order almond milk right?” Thor called out as he rummaged around the the mini fridges under the counters. “I remembered,” Darcy called through from the kitchen. “Yeah but did you do it?” he clarified. Silence was his answer. “What do I keep pay her for?” Thor grumbled. “Entertainment value?” a rumbling male voice said somewhere above him.

“Hey, sorry about tha—,” Thor said, rising above the counter to see Bucky leaning casually against it. It had been months since the man had been in the shop. It was also the first time Thor’d ever seen him out of gym clothes. He was dressed in a black leather jacket and navy crew neck with aviators tucked into the neckline. A long chain with a silver pendant hung around his neck.

“Hey,” Bucky said.

“You cut your hair,” Thor blurted out.

Bucky chuckled, racking restless fingers through the short sides. It was a drastic difference to his previously long locks. “Just needed a change,” he said, unconsciously echoing Thor’s own words back at him. He shifted his weight unconsciously, eyes avoiding Thor’s. “Got out of the city for a while, cleared my head,” Bucky explained, chewing on his bottom lip. “Look, I just wanted to say…,” he paused, taking a deep breath. “I never said thank you for…you know.” He gestured a little helplessly between his face and the back alley.

“You have nothing to thank me for,” Thor interrupted, trying to spare the awkwardness. “Still,” Bucky insisted, gesturing towards the espresso machine. “I’d offer to buy you a coffee but that would seem a little redundant.” The smirk that followed was a little shaky but it had a mischievousness tucked in the corner. “Well, it might be me buying you a coffee,” Thor drawled, kicking the mini fridge door shut. “Because _someone_ forgot to put in the almond milk order,” he added, raising his voice to carry into the back of the kitchen. A rude noise was his only answer.

Bucky chuckled, ducking his head a little. “Won’t catch me complaining,” he said, looking up through his lashes. Thor blinked, caught completely off guard. Doubt flickered through Bucky’s bright eyes and he began to backtrack. “Unless you’re not…,” he started. “No, no, it’s not that,” Thor insisted. “I’m interested, believe me. I’d have to be blind not to be.” A red flush crept up the back of Bucky’s neck, staining his ears. “Just surprised, is all,” he added.

Something hard flickered through Bucky’s eyes but it wasn’t aimed at Thor. His ice eyes flicked up to Thor’s and held. It was like staring into a storm, like staring up into a cloudless sky. It was like getting lost at sea but knowing there was no change of drowning. There was pain there, flickering like a ember in the dark, but it wasn’t the defining feature. Instead it was like an iron-clad resolve and something fragile were balancing together on a knife edge, in a strange sort of symbiosis. Neither warring for dominance. Just balance. “I won’t let him change me,” Bucky said, voice soft but nowhere near weak.

Thor didn’t smile but his heart warmed and his throat tightened involuntarily. “Darcy, cover the till,” he called out to the back without breaking eye contact. Bucky smiled, broad and unrestrained and showing teeth and Thor couldn’t help but smiled back.

 

 


	3. Fairy

“Fuckin’ fairies.”

The harsh words slurred through the white static that crackled across Bucky’s vision. His fingers tightened reactively in his hair. He barely registered the prickles of pain that sparked across his scalp as roots separated from skin.

God, the last thing he needed as he struggled to breathe was a couple of drunk assholes looking for an easy target. This was why he didn’t leave the tower. He knew better and he shouldn’t have let Thor talk him into it. Damn that man with all his muscles and perfect teeth and puppy dog eyes that were even worse than Steve’s.

He’d been minding his own business perfectly well, hunched over the coffee machine in the communal kitchen. It was early Sunday morning, far earlier than any sane person should be awake yet here he was, leaning heavily on the counter as he watched the dark liquid slowly drip from the spigot. Metallic fingers drummed a tattoo on the dark marble as rain began to spatter against the windows. His jangled nerves refused to calm as the shadows of now-forgotten nightmares clung to the edges of his eyes.

He’d been getting better.

The triggers had been removed from his head, thanks to the Wakandan princess, after which Steve insisted that he come, as he said, home. Home to the billion dollar high rise in midtown Manhattan. It was a far cry from the cramped two bedroom walkup by the docks he and Steve had shared before the war. Now he shared an entire floor with the man. Overindulgence was an understatement. Growing up in the Depression, he wasn’t sure how Steve coped with all the extravagance. He guessed the man must just be used to it now.

It wasn’t that it was bad. Steve could be a bit smothering at times but he was getting better at knowing when to give Bucky his space. Stark had even set him up with a therapist, a tiny woman with round glasses and a no-nonsense attitude. He went because the alternative was to endure Steve’s disappointed puppy dog eyes but he didn’t talk more than he had to. He just couldn’t bring himself to tell her anything more than a heavily redacted PG version. The horrors would bubble up behind his lips, in their full unedited glory, but he could never bring himself to spit them out.

The coffee pot was barely a quarter full when the coffee maker let out a sickly whine and sputtered to a halt. Bucky let a huff and squashed the urge to throw the infernal machine out the window. Even if he could get the thing out through the ballistic grade glass, he’d never hear the end of it from Stark, or Steve for that matter.

A sudden boom of thunder had him flinching back against the kitchen counter. A bright flash of light right outside the windows illuminated the room and then the balcony door was sliding open to reveal the silhouette of a tall, broad shouldered man.

“Good morning, Sergeant Barnes,” the blonde said cheerfully, brushing damp locks back from his forehead. “My apologies if my arrival startled you.”

“ ’s fine,” Bucky replied as his heartbeat steadied.

“You are awake before the sun. An oddity for the weekly day of rest,” Thor commented, placing his hammer on the coffee table. The glass beneath it creaked slightly.

“So are you,” Bucky said stiffly.

If Thor took offence to his brisk tone, he didn’t show it. “Time passes differently on Asgard,” the man, the god, explained brightly. “Sometimes I forget. It was not my intention to return at such an hour.”

Bucky hummed distractedly as Thor’s shoulders rippled as he removed his cloak with a flourish. He shook his long hair back like a fucking shampoo commercial and Bucky had to look away before he got caught staring. The coffee maker let out a sad gurgle and shut off. He smacked the side of the coffee maker with a growl.

“Useless piece of shit,” he muttered.

A deep rumbling chuckle reached his ears and he gritted his teeth against the sound. “I know a place that is open all hours. They have excellent coffee.” Bucky glanced behind him, suspiciously taking the bigger man in. Thor’s face was nothing but open and friendly but he seemed to check himself when Bucky didn’t say anything. “If you do not wish for company, I am not offended,” he said gently. “I can simply give you the address, if you like.”

“I don’t mind,” Bucky said, surprising himself. The way Thor’s whole face lit up as he smiled at Bucky’s answer didn’t hurt either.

“It will take me but a moment to change,” he said brightly. Bucky grunted an answer to the man’s retreating back and dragged himself back to his room for socks and a jacket.

They walked in silence to a little diner about six blocks from the tower called May’s Kitchen. They sat down in silence. Thor quietly ordered them coffees but didn’t press for conversation. He sipped his coffee slowly while Bucky downed his like it was going out of style. “Thanks,” he said gruffly after his third refill, now feeling a little bit more grounded.

“I like this place,” Thor said with a smile. “I come here often. I highly recommend the blueberry pie. It is most delicious.”

“Can’t remember the last time I had pie,” Bucky mused, twirling a finger around the edge of his mug idly. He had said it mostly to himself but seeing as he did indeed say it out loud, Thor heard him. He flagged down a passing server and proceeded to order one piece of every pie in the display. Bucky didn’t know what he could even say to that so he ended up just staring at Thor like he had grown horns.

The blonde man grinned widely at Bucky’s incredulously raised eyebrows. “If your appetite is anything like Steven’s, this will not be a hardship,” Thor chuckled. That deep rumbling sound sent something fluttering through Bucky’s stomach, but he just chalked it up caffeine on an empty stomach.

It took the server three trips to bring all the plates over, even with a tray. “Alrighty,” she said, a slightly southern twang in her voice. “We have apple, blueberry, chocolate, coconut cream, banana cream, rhubarb and raspberry, pecan, and cherry,” she said, pointing to each plate in turn. “Enjoy,” she said with a wink, setting down two forks.

“So where shall we start?” Thor asked, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“This is too much,” Bucky breathed.

There were only a few people in the diner this early, a gaggle of drunk teenagers giggling over a basket of fries along with two nurses and a construction worker hunched over the counter, but it felt like they were all staring. A familiar paranoid feeling prickled up the back of his neck and Bucky squashed the urge to fidget. He just kept staring at the pile of plates in front of him.

Something slender and cool slide between his fingers. Startled, he looked down at the fork he now gripped in his hand. Bright blue eyes caught his gaze and held in a way that for the first time in a long while didn’t make Bucky feel like he was being judged or assessed.

“Try the blueberry,” Thor urged gently.

 

Within the next hour, Bucky figured out that he liked blueberry, pecan, and coconut cream, didn’t mind rhubarb raspberry, apple, and chocolate, and strongly disliking cherry and banana cream. All these things he kept to himself. He still struggled with the idea of having choices, to have the freedom to have likes and dislikes. It was one thing to figure it out for himself. It was another to voice them out loud.

Thor quietly paid the bill, staying in Bucky’s sight lines as they stepped out into the chilly dawn. Once again they walked in silence, Bucky’s hands tucked firmly in his pockets as he subtly raked his eyes over the taller man.

Thor was loud and boisterous, voice deep and booming with a presence like standing a few feet from the sun. Not to mention that the Asgardian was build like Adonis on steroids with blonde hair that Rapunzel would envy and eyes bluer than any sky Bucky had ever seen. It woke something buried deep in his chest he was for sure HYDRA had burned out a long time ago. Something that scared the shit out of him.

Bucky was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he didn’t pay attention to his surroundings. If he had, he wouldn’t have been caught unawares by the man who leaned out of his truck to shout at another driver. He wouldn’t have been thrown by the guttural words, a language that had been used for decades to shove him back into his little box. It wasn’t even close to those words, but they scratched at his ears all the same. It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head. Frost crystallized in his lungs, making it hard to breathe.

 

_He crawled into consciousness abruptly as his knees cracked hard against the floor. The rest of his body followed, sprawling gracelessly across the cold ground. People were yelling at him. His muscles trembled and cramped. His lungs spasmed, trying to remember how they were supposed to work._

_A harsh voice snapped orders. He struggled to understand what was being said but his mind was still foggy from the cryo. He tried to push himself up but he buckled and collapsed again. The voice spoke again, impatient. A face swam into his sight, blonde hair slicked back from a clean shaven face._

_“Steve?”_

_The voice snapped out orders, angry and more than a little afraid. Then hands were grabbing him under the arms and hauling him to his feet. His body sagged into the hold, vision swimming. His knees brushed along the floor as he was dragged into another room, chin bouncing off his chest with each step._

_The hands spun him around and then his back hit solid metal. His arms were strapped down, cold metal closing around his biceps and wrists. A bar came down across his ankles. Hands gripped his jaw, fingers wrenching it open to shove a piece of black rubber over his teeth._

_A soft whir and he was tipping backwards. His muscles spasmed at the familiar sensation. A shadow passed over his face before cold metal pressed down on his temples. Panic flooded his chest and he wasn’t sure why he was so scared. His chest heaved, breath coming out in stuttered gasps._

_Then it was nothing but pain._

 

Bucky blinked, vision blaring as he found himself staring at the damp pebbly cement between his boots. His head was in his hands, fingers tangled in his long hair as his breath hitched and stuttered.

The first thing he noticed was the damp cold ground he seemed to be sitting on. The next thing he registered was the low rumbling noise. It wasn’t the harsh guttural tones from his memories but a gentle soothing cadence. There was something wrapped around his bicep, a gentle steady pressure helping to ground him.

He slowly looked up through his hair to see Thor sitting next to him, one large hand wrapped around Bucky’s arm. The Asgardian wasn’t even looking at him, just staring out across the street like bland interest.

And he was singing.

His voice was soft and low, not enough to carry beyond the two of them. Bucky didn’t understand the words but it was beautiful. The strange words had a melodic quality to them, soothing in nature. Bucky could feel his body relaxing without his prompting. His shoulders started to lower, his fingers softening their grip on his hair. He found himself drawn towards it. His shoulder bushed against Thor’s, and felt the bigger man lean closer.

“Fuckin’ fairies.”

Any tension that had previously left his body came rushing back. His fingers tightened in his hair painfully before he was in motion. Bucky’s was on his feet in the next breath, muscles tense as he searched for the threat.

Two men were stumbling down the street a few feet away. It would take hardly any effort. He’d close the distance before the one in the hat could recall his own name. But then there was a muscular chest blocking his view. A hand was pressed against the middle his chest.

Thor should be thanking his lucky stars he didn’t go for a shoulder because Bucky was completely sure he would have lost all grip on reality if the man had touched where metal met flesh right now.

As it was Bucky lashed out. He couldn’t help it. Even though a part of him knew who it was, the majority of his mind was in fight-or-flight mode and the man was too close, too close. His hands connected with a wall of solid muscle as he shoved. Thor barely rocked back a step and Bucky had put some force behind the hit. The man was a fucking tank.

“They are not worth it,” Thor murmured, the hand that had been on Bucky’s chest now hovering in the space between them.

The men wandered away, their braying laughter and leering looks slowly fading. It wasn’t until they were long out of sight that Bucky felt like he might be able to breathe again. He sucked in air, feeling his chest constrict around his lungs like a vice.

Thor’s hand lowered, his eyes bright with concern. “Are you alright, Bucky?” he asked gently. He took a step and Bucky matched it backwards, shoulder brushing against the rough brick of the building. He couldn’t handle gentle right now. Couldn’t handle the man being gentle right now. The look in those blue eyes made Bucky feel like he was going to shake apart and as much as a small part of him would love Thor to pick up the pieces, he definitely had more pride than to let him.

“There is no shame in—.”

“ ‘M fine,” Bucky interrupted, brushing aside the man’s concern and his too-gentle gaze and took off down the street. He didn’t run but it was a close thing.

He managed to lose Thor on the way back to the Tower but the man caught up with him in the lobby. Bucky’s jaw muscles kept twitching as the two of them stepped into the elevator. He’d fleetingly considered taking the stairs but he really didn’t want to climb eighty odd flights just to avoid the blonde man. He could handle an uncomfortable five minutes. Or at least he thought. Thor kept throwing sidelong glances at him, like he wanted to ask him something but kept stopping himself. Finally, Bucky couldn’t take it anymore.

“Just ask,” he huffed.

Thor turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “I do not—,” he started but Bucky didn’t have the patience for the man’s faux confusion.

“Whatever it is that has you glancing over at me ever four seconds,” he snapped. He could feel Thor’s eyes on him, calculating. His nostrils flared as he clamped down on his temper. He exhaled slowly, planting his hands on his hips. None of this was Thor’s fault. It wasn’t fair to take it out on him.

“I do not understand,” Thor continued patiently. “Why did those men say ‘fairies’ as if an insult? On Asgard, fairies are tiny mischievous creatures in children’s stories. Are they not the same thing in this world?”

Bucky flushed. Of all the things which happened in the last few hours that he could have expected the other man to latch onto, that bit wasn’t what he’d have guessed. It threw him for a loop that it hadn’t been the panic attack. It hadn’t been questions about the arm or what in god’s name could have happened to him that Bucky couldn’t even walk down the street without an incident. It had been the nasty slang word that the Asgardian didn’t understand.

“It’s, uhh,” he mumbled, willing the elevator faster so he wouldn’t have to explain. They were still floors away from their destination. “It’s an insult, like fruit, poof, pillow biter,” he listed out bitterly, wishing himself a mile away from this conversation.

He remembered. He didn’t remember everything but he remembered that. Men that he worked with, soldiers and dock-workers alike. Friends. Strangers in the street. His own father. The words had never been directed at him though. He’d been too careful, too scared to do anything but just remain silent when the men got going.

He also remembered Steve always speaking out against such insults, unafraid of becoming a target. Stupid, brave Steve always fighting the good fight no matter what. Bucky’d never felt more like a coward than in those moments.

“I do not understand.”

Bucky cursed silently. “Do I need to fuckin’ spell it out for yah?” he growled, feeling like something was crawling under his own skin. “It’s a nasty slang for men who like…you know. Other men,” he ended softly, face flushing. Thor just raised an eyebrow and Bucky flushed, looking away.

“I see,” he heard the other man say softly.

Bucky kept his gaze firmly on the elevator door, hands planting on his hips to keep them from shaking. Best case scenario, the rest of the ride passed in awkward silence and he never saw Thor again. He didn’t want to entertain the other option.

The doors opened to his and Steve’s shared floor and he practically leapt off. But before the doors could close, a large hand reached out to stop them. “Sergeant Barnes,” Thor started.

“Bucky,” he immediately corrected.

“Bucky,” the Asgaridan amended. “I wish you to know that my people do not share this intolerance. We believe that the soul is more important that whatever shell we choose to wear in this life.” Bucky swallowed thickly, staring down at his boots. While he knew Steve would always stand by him no matter what, he’d never been able to buck up enough courage to actually tell the man. And here was a practical stranger offering their support.

“And I also wish you to know that you are not alone.”

Bucky’s eyes snapped up to Thor’s, wide and startled. The blonde smiled gently, holding his disbelieving gaze. He let his arm fall then, the elevator doors closing softly. Only after the doors closed did Bucky really fully understand what the man had meant.

He wasn’t alone.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I've really latched onto this one-word prompt thing. It's forcing me to get creative, especially because I keep changing up the pairings. If you have a pairing you'd like to see, no promises but please throw the suggestions out there and I'll see what I can do!
> 
> Feedback is my fairy dust as always! Thanks for reading! xx


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